23 July
This past year has been a whirlwind. I cant believe how much life has changed since Simon and I separated. Sometimes, when I think back to those final days, it almost feels unrealas if I were watching someone elses story unfold.
I still hear Simons words echoing in my head when he turned up at my flat to deliver the divorce papers. Emily, you do realise I dont need you here anymore, right? I do think its best if you make your way back to London.
I remember, clear as day, the weariness in his eyes when he replied, What city are you talking about, Em? Id already run out of energy to argue by then; after all, Id just been let down by the person I thought I knew best. Wed built our lives together from scratch. Id sold my little flat in Clapham and wed poured every last pound into our business. Simons contribution was a box-room in a houseshare, while Id worked every hour God sent, determined to give us the stability we craved. We scraped by for years, moving from one rented flat to another, but eventually, things started to look up.
But with success, Simon changed. He started acting as if he owned the world, quietly shifting all our assets into his name. He thought he was being clever. When everything was under his control, he served me with the divorce.
Do you think this is fair, Simon? I remember asking, more disappointed than angry.
He just shrugged, indifferent. Dont start, Em. Youve not lifted a finger for ages. I do everything, you do nothing.
I kept my voice as calm as I could. You were the one who told me to take a break and focus on myself.
He gave a long, irritated sigh. Im tired of these pointless arguments. By the way, do you remember that old farm I inherited from old Mr. Barnett, my boss? He passed away and left me that patch of useless land. Suits you, really. If you dont want it, you get nothing.
I remember the sting of his words, but also the relief of realising I was finally seeing him for who he truly was, after more than a decade together.
Fine, I said. But on one condition: the farm must be put in my name. Formally.
No trouble, he smirked. Will save me a packet in taxes.
I didnt argue. I quietly packed up my essentials and checked into a little hotel outside Reading, determined to start over. Whether the farm was truly a derelict wreck or simply a patch of forgotten countryside, Id find out soon enough. If it was worthless, Id simply start afresh somewhere else.
I loaded my battered Fiesta with the things that mattered and left the rest behind for Simon and his new girlfriend. If he thought hed keep leaning on me for my business sense and experience, he was in for a rude awakening. The new womanwhom Id only met brieflyseemed more high-handed than clever, anyway.
Simon handed me the deeds with a sneer. Good luck, Em.
I nodded. Same to you.
He laughed. Send me a picture of your cows, wont you?
I didnt dignify that with a reply. Instead, I simply drove away. It wasnt until I hit the quiet country lanes outside Oxfordshire that the tears startedyears of disappointment, betrayal, and dashed hopes pouring out. I must have sat on the side of the lane for nearly half an hour before a gentle tap at the window jolted me back to reality.
Are you all right, my dear? asked an elderly woman, kindness shining in her eyes. My husband and I noticed youd been parked here a while.
Brushing away tears, I managed a wobbly smile. Glancing in my mirror, I saw Id stopped by a bus shelter.
Ill be fine, trulyjust a bit overwhelmed, I explained.
She nodded in understanding. Were just on our way back from the hospital. Our neighbours alone in there, poor thingnever gets a visitor. Are you headed towards Gloucestershire by any chance?
Gloucestershire. Thats where the farm was, or so Id been told.
As a matter of fact, yes, I said. Im going right by there. Hop inIm happy to give you both a lift.
The woman, who introduced herself as Jeanette Armstrong, squeezed into the seat beside me, her husband Arthur quietly climbing into the back. As we drove, Jeanette gave me a thorough rundown of the old farmwhod pinched tools from the sheds, who still looked out for the animals, just how neglected the entire place had become since Mr. Barnetts passing.
When I finally arrived, what I saw was even sadder than Id braced myself for: rolling fields overgrown with weeds, the barn on its last legs, and only a handful of cows left grazing patches of rough grass. Still, deep down, something flickereda stubborn resolve to make something of it and begin again.
Its almost impossible to believe that was only a year ago.
Today, as I looked out over the emerald fields, I counted nearly eighty healthy cows roaming contentedly. The barns have been restored, the fields are lush, and the little farm Simon threw away has become a thriving business. I had to pawn some treasured jewellery to buy my first delivery of feed, and every penny of savings went into fixing up the place. But soon, the farms name began to spread and people were coming from nearby counties to buy my produce. The orders only kept coming.
One afternoon, Amya bright, eager girl who helps out on weekendsbrought me the local paper. Inside was an ad for refrigerated lorries, suspiciously cheap. I recognised the contact number instantlySimons business. With a mischievous grin, I asked Amy to call and offer 5% over asking price, on the condition that the lorries werent shown to any other prospective buyers.
It was Simon himself who showed up, clearly not expecting to see me.
Youre buying them? he asked, flustered.
Yes, I replied lightly. For the farm you so kindly left me. Were expandingdemand is booming.
He was lost for wordshis smugness melted away. As his life unravelled, I realised Id long since let go of the past.
And now now Im happy. I found real love with Tom, the mechanic who helped mend the old tractor and my heart along the way. We christened our baby girl Charlotte just last month, the happiest day I can remember. Simon is nowhere but a distant shadow now, watching from afar as my new life flourishes. I finally feel free.
